The Night of the Deadly Machine
by Andamogirl
Summary: Miguelito Loveless needs Artemus Gordon's help for his new wicked scheme, but of course he won't ask for it, but force the agent to do it against his will.
1. Teaser

**THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE**

 **By Andamogirl**

Author's note: season 2.

Episode tag. This story takes place right after the end of "The night of the cadre". References to the following episodes: "The night of the howling light, "The night of the lord of limbo" & "The night of the cadre".

References to my stories TNOT Deadly Showboat & TNOT Mermaid.

 _Artie_ _: "Ohhh, the noble horse, man's best friend._ _(sees Jim kissing Veda)_ _Well, maybe second best."_

TNOT Golden Cobra.

 _Dr. Loveless_ _: Allow me to introduce myself, sir. I am Dr. Miguelito Loveless. I plead guilty to being dictatorial, vain, short-tempered, occasionally unreasonable, and always... always a helpless admirer of all that is rare and fine in nature and art. But mad... no sir, that I will not permit._

TNO Miguelito's Revenge.

Many thanks to my beta reader Tripidydoodah.

Warnings: graphic violence (electrocution & torture, kind of) & major character temporary death.

WWW

 **TEASER**

 _Miguelito Loveless's hideout, somewhere._

Dr. Miguelito Quixote Loveless let out an irritated groan and then, "No! No! No! And NO!" He pivoted on his stool and crossed his arms on his chest like a frustrated child. "I tried everything! Eve-ry-thing! And nothing works properly! Like I want." He said, scowling.

Belladonna seated on an armchair, next to the coffee table lowered the book she was reading to her knees and frowned. "What is it Miguelito? Can't you make that knock-out gas formula?"

Loveless glared at his new 'favorite', feeling affronted and pressed his mouth into a tight line. "I'm a master in chemistry, my dear. Of course I can make that formula, but there's still a lot of smoke and it smells bad, and for what I have planned to do, I want _my fast acting and long action_ knock-out gas to be colorless and odorless. I don't want it to be detected, it's absolutely vital." Drumming his fingers impatiently on the long table, he stared absently at all the vials, beakers, flasks, test tubes, etc. of his large chemist set, searching for a solution, and after long minutes of reflection, he found one. He beamed and snapped his fingers with a joyful expression. "I've got it! I've just found the solution, Belladonna, my dear, and it's brilliant!

Belladonna smiled. "Like you are. I knew that you would find something, Miguelito."

Loveless chuckled. "More like someone, Belladonna. There's someone who knows a great deal about knock-out gas formulas besides me and he's going to help me - against his will, I'm afraid." He chuckled. "You don't know him yet, Belladonna, I mean you don't know him personally because I told you about him many times, but soon you will meet Mr. Artemus Gordon in flesh and blood. Of course, his famous partner James West will accompany him. They're virtually inseparable; they're like conjoined-twins." The little man rubbed his long hands together with glee. "That's perfect! They will both die – I don't know how yet, but I will find something… I have a lot of imagination. But they will die after Mr. Gordon had helped me, of course, and they will die slowly and painfully, that I know."

The young blond woman grinned. "I'm sure that you will find something inventive, worthy of your exceptional talent. But first you have to find them Miguelito, they are special agents working for the Government, and they could be anywhere in the country, it won't be easy to locate them."

Loveless nodded. "Finding them will take some time, yes, but I have informants in the whole country. It's just a matter of time before I locate them, my dear."

Belladonna smiled, impressed, and closed the book on her lap. "You're formidable Miguelito. You're a genius!" she said.

Loveless nodded. "I know that."

He smiled like a crocodile, his eyes glittering with wickedness.

WWW

 _The Wanderer_

James West was making coffee in the galley when the train braked abruptly, again, in a concert of squeaking noises, slowing down to take on water in the next reservoir.

He found himself being propelled against the bulkhead, hard and hit his head. At the same time he heard a thud coming from the parlor car. "Artie", he said in worry.

Rubbing his head, he abandoned what he was doing, and rushed into the narrow walkway.

Pushing the swinging door opening into the parlor, he discovered his partner lying on his side, on the carpeted floor, still sleeping soundly and lightly snoring, knocked-out by his new odorless and colorless knock-out gas formula, he had accidently tested on himself a few minutes ago.

Smiling, Jim knelt beside the older man and prodded at his head to see if he had any injuries and thankfully found none.

He raised the chair that had fallen along with his best friend, and then he hoisted Artemus Gordon onto the nearest couch.

He chuckled softly. "There, like this you won't fall on the floor again," he said. He covered his best friend with the coverlet up to his shoulders and added, "Good night Artie, sleep well, buddy."

He patted his partner's shoulder with affection and then he headed back to the galley. A cup of coffee then I'll be off to bed, he thought.

WWW

 _The next morning_

Artemus was still sleeping when James entered the parlor car the next morning. Jim noticed that Artie had moved on his side during the night and he was now facing the backrest of the couch, head buried in the pillow. The coverlet was lying, abandoned, on the carpeted floor.

Picking it up Jim shook his best friend's shoulder. "Hi Artie, raise and shine pal. You have breakfast to prepare, and I'm very hungry." He placed the coverlet on the back of a chair and sat on it. "Come one buddy. It's 0710 already; it's time to wake up."

Stirring, Artie moaned and rolled onto his back slowly. Pain shot through his head, making him wince. He hissed and brought his hands to his face. The morning sun coming through the windows was blinding him. "Oh boy! I have a mother of a painful headache and I have a bit of nausea too." He moved his hands aside and groggily opened his eyes, his vision blurred. "Ooooh!" he whimpered, a grimace on his face.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the golden morning light, he blinked a few times, forcing his eyes to focus and then he realized he was lying on a couch, in the parlor car, and that Jim was standing beside him, smirking.

He frowned, confused. "Hiya, Jim, good morning. What am I doing here? Why am I not in my bed? Was I drunk last night?" He blinked, trying to remember something, but nothing popped up in his blank mind. "Because I don't remember anything. Did I enjoy myself? The girls were pretty?... That would explain why I have a hangover from hell and... what did I do to deserve that smirk?" He scrunched his face in shame, feeling humiliated. "Oh dear God! Did I start to sing and dance in front of people?"

Jim shook his head. "No, but I like when you do that Artie! But it's very rare though, because you handle your liquor very well. You can drink two bottles of cheap whiskey without being even slightly drunk." He chuckled and added, "You weren't drunk last night and don't have any hangover Artie, well, at least not a liquor-induced hangover, but a sleeping gas-induced hangover."

Blinking slowly, confused again, Artie asked, "What are you talking about?"

Pulling up a chair beside the couch, Jim sat and explained, "You accidently tested your own knock-out gas formula on yourself last night. It works perfectly; believe me – thus the smirk, because it was funny. You were talking to me and then, in a wink of an eye, you were sleeping, in front of your transportable chemistry set. Your knock out gas formula is odorless and colorless and acts very quickly. You were out cold in less than 10 seconds. I carried you to the couch and you slept like a log the whole night long."

Running his fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp, Artie smiled weakly. "My formula is working. That's good news!" He rubbed his pounding temples after that and sighed, frustrated. "But I don't remember how I did it. That means I'm going to have to do all my chemical experiments all over again. I hope I took some notes… but I always do." He massaged his aching neck. "Ow!"

As Jim stood up Artie swung his legs off the couch and sat down again, feeling dizzy, and he felt his muscles and joints hurt. "Ow! Oh boy! I feel like the 7th cavalry had galloped over me, twice! Once on the way out, once on the way back."

Frowning in worry, Jim put the back of his hand against Artie's clammy forehead. The other man looked exhausted and his face was sweaty and flooded with color. "I believe you are running a fever Artie."

Furrowing his brow, Artie touched his burning forehead in his turn. "My knock-out gas formula doesn't make people sick, usually. Perhaps I was sick before that and didn't notice it. Now that I think of it, the man who rented me his vehicle – I brilliantly transformed into a carriage used to transport prisoners, and then in itinerant salesman's carriage – was very sick. I think he infected me." A fit of coughing overtook him, tightening his aching ribs like a vise. He pressed a shaking hand against his chest. "Damn! I think I caught something nasty, it's not just a bad headache, it's something else." Sweat prickled on the back of his neck. "I hope it's not the flu, but just a bad cold, otherwise I'm going to be stuck here for a while. And you too, partner. If it's the flu I have probably contaminated you Jim, I'm sorry."

Jim shook his head, noticing the tight lines of pain around Artie's eyes. "Nah, I'm fine. I'm never sick Artie, remember?"

Artemus slowly stood up, his head swimming. A long, painful cough scraped through his chest and throat. "I'm not feeling too well…" He pressed his palms over his eyes as his headache intensified then his sweaty hands came up to grasp his skull. "My head is splitting. Jim."

Jim nodded. "We should arrive in Kansas City in a couple of hours, Artie. Once there I'll fetch a doctor and bring him here."

Coughing violently, Artie shook his head. "No, there's no need… It's just a bad cold. I have everything in my lab to get rid of it. I make my own drugs, remember? I need to lie on my bed."

He got up from the couch, slowly, feeling his legs tremble, and the world swam around him. "Oh boy!" he let out, gritting his teeth, and he staggered to his feet. His muscles were aching and his joints throbbing. "I don't remember the Wanderer hitting me…" he wheezed, feeling miserable.

Immediately Jim caught Artemus's elbow and accompanied his best friend, as he swayed sideways dangerously, toward the swinging door.

Suddenly his knees buckled beneath him. With a whimper of distress, his whole body fell to the carpeted floor, nearly passing out.

Tbc.


	2. Act One

**THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT ONE**

 _Later_

Moaning in pain, Artie slumped on his bunk, the mattress dipping under his weight. He started to slowly slide sideways. Jim caught him by his shoulders, stilling him, and started to remove his partner's green emerald smoking jacket.

Frowning, Artie groaned, irritated. "I'm not a child; I don't need you to undress me, Jim."

Jim lifted his hand and moved back immediately, smiling. "Okay."

But it did happen, then, what Jim thought would happen.

Off-balance, Artemus slowly slid to the side, again. His head met the pillow at the head of the bed and his head spun with the motion. "Oh boy, I hate being sick." Unable to move, his limbs like lead, and refusing to obey any commands, he let Jim take off his boots and undress him, stripping him down to underwear leaving him exposed and shivering. Then Jim pulled up a blanket and tucked his feet in underneath. "Thanks."

Jim smiled. "You're welcome." Opening a small chest of drawers, the younger man took a couple of blankets and covered Artie with them, cocooning him.

Buried under blankets, Artie was drenched in a cold sweat. He was very pale, had dark circles around his eyes and sweat-drenched hair was plastered to his forehead.

He took one pillow and pressed the cool material to his face with a sigh of relief. It felt nice against his overheated skin. "Mmmh… so good."

Jim laid a hand on his partner's shoulder his features pinched with concern. "Do you need something Artie? Tell me buddy."

Groaning, Artemus nodded weakly and sneezed. "Yes, just kill me. Put an end to my misery."

Smiling James shook his head. "Not going to happen, buddy. I won't harm a hair of your head. It's just a bad cold, buddy, you're not dying… Artie?"

Exhausted Artie felt into a light doze, the pillow still covering his face. Jim took the pillow and gently slid it behind his partner's sweaty head.

He brushed Artie's locks off his forehead and placed his palm there. He was burning up. Artie was now shivering, and he knew his temperature must be climbing. "Hang on, Artie."

The older man abruptly opened his eyes, grimaced and pressed his hand against his mouth, nausea rising into his throat. "Oh no…" He started coughing, his body shaking with it. "No…"

Frowning in alarm Jim asked, "What is it?"

Panting, propped on one elbow, Artemus let out a low moan of distress as his stomach lurched, "God! Gonna be sick… wash basin, Jim, now," he said hoarsely.

His body jerked forward and in a split second Jim grabbed the empty wash basin on the dresser, and placed it under his partner's head just in time.

Artie vomited in earnest in the basin Jim was holding, heaving all the contents from his stomach, retching long after there was nothing left to throw up but a thin trickle of bile. "I'm sorry," he said wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, feeling sore and exhausted. "I didn't mean to get so unpleasant here," he said, embarrassed, and cold and shaking, as Jim put the basin with the vomit on the table. The acrid smell of vomit made his stomach turn again. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his breathing. "Thank goodness you grabbed that basin just in time. Otherwise…"

Patting his best friend's shoulder soothingly Jim said, "It's okay Artie. Now close your eyes and sleep, you'll feel better after a nap."

Opening his eyes, Artie whispered, "Thanks mom." Then he sniffed wetly and coughed once again. His eyes drifted shut, his breathing evened, and soon he was drifting off into a fitful sleep.

WWW

 _Much later_

It was dark when Artemus opened his eyes, and he had no idea if it was night or day or how long he'd been asleep. Beads of sweat were running down his face, his whole body shivering. He immediately untangled himself from the blankets, some trailing to the floor. He was too hot. "Jim?" he called.

Immediately Jim moved a stool at the side of the bunk and sat down. "I'm here, Artie. You need to drink to avoid being dehydrated."

Moaning Artie shook his head. "My throat's so sore, it hurts… can't swallow…"

Jim held the glass of cold water to Artemus's lips and coaxed him into taking a sip, "Come on Artie, you're going to be dehydrated if you don't drink. Open up; take a sip, just one."

Grumbling good-naturedly, Artie complied and didn't regret it. The water felt cool and soothing against his parched throat. "Oh, that's good!" he rasped.

Once he had had a series of sips, Jim put the glass down on the table. "That's a good man." He retrieved a large bowl of cold water, a flannel, placed them both on the vacated stool, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. He soaked the washcloth in the water, wrung it out and laid it gently across Artemus forehead, eliciting a moan of pleasure from the other man. "That good huh?" He then gently patted the soaked cloth over his partner's flushed face and asked, "How do you feel?"

Grunting, Artemus closed his eyes shut. "I'm dying," he breathed his tongue thick and dried as cotton. He started shaking violently, his teeth shattering. "Co-co-cold…" then abruptly he wasn't cold anymore but burning again. He moaned, "Hot…"

His eyes filled with worry, Jim rewet the towel before laying it over Artie's face, water cascading from his forehead to his neck. "Does that feel good?"

The older agent nodded faintly. "Bath… bath. Have to take a bath… get fever down before… before it cooks my brain."

Jim nodded. "We have plenty of ice left. Okay I'm preparing the bathtub."

Opening bloodshot and weary eyes, Artie shook his head. "No ice. Just lukewarm water… Cooling my body that way will make the situation worse… by causing shivering, which will raise the core body temperature. Lukewarm water, that's… all. It will feel plenty cool for me…"

Artie sneezed and coughed.

Standing Jim said, "Lukewarm water, okay. Stay here and keep still. It won't be long. Just hold on, alright?" Then he left the room in a hurry.

Feeling too hot, Artie pushed the blankets off his feverish body and groaned in pleasure as the cool air enveloped his almost naked body. "Hurry… Jim."

WWW

Once his body had been cooled down, Artemus, naked and freezing under his bathrobe, staggered back to his sleeping compartment.

He flopped down onto the bunk and pulled the blankets over himself.

His temperature had dropped as expected, he mused. He was cold now, his skin was covered with goosebumps, his teeth were shattering but he felt a lot better. "Jim?"

Sitting on the edge of the bunk, Jim wiped Artemus's brow with a cool towel again. "I'm here Artie. How do you feel?"

Artie smiled. "Better, but I'm cold now, but it's okay. The fever is gone, I think. But I'm weak as a whole litter of newborn kittens." He smiled weakly. "No, make that two."

Jim placed a hand on Artie's forehead. "Yes, you're right. The fever's gone. Sleep now Artie." and Artemus closed his eyes, unable to keep them open one minute longer.

He wrapped his best friend in all the blankets he could find then he let out a long sigh in relief. Artie would be okay now.

Marmalade suddenly leaped on her owner's legs and rolled in a ball on Artie's lap, waving her tail, staring at the sick man.

The white and orange cat lifted one paw to pat Artie's cheek. "Meow?" it let out, and tilted its head slightly to one side, as though it was curious.

Jim smiled and stroked the Marmie's back and tail eliciting purrs. "He's very sick," he explained. "Keep an eye on him, and let out a loud meow if something's wrong. I'm counting on you, Marmie, okay?

Meow.

WWW

 _Kansas City_

 _Later_

It was past noon when Artie opened his eyes groggily, yawning, and stretched under the cocoon of warm blankets. He finally realized that he wasn't dead and smiled broadly. "I'm still alive." He noticed Jim sitting on a stool beside his bunk and said, his voice hoarse, "Hiya, Jim."

Jim shook his head, grinning. "Hi Artie. Yes, you're alive, fortunately for you and for me. You're too good a cook and I don't want to train another partner. It's too difficult. It took me years and the patience of a saint to make a decent partner of you."

Frowning, a bit (falsely) affronted Artie rasped, "Decent?"

Jim chuckled. "I was joking. You're the best. Nobody else will replace you by my side, Artemus, never. I wouldn't accept it. You're unique, buddy."

Propping himself on his elbows, Artie spotted Marmalade rolled in a ball on his legs, staring at him. He touched the cat's nose, playfully. "Never say never Jim. Nobody can say what will happen in the future. Someday you could have a replacement at your side. Imagine for a moment that the President needs me in Washington for several months for some reason… Richmond will partner you with someone else until I return to your side, probably with Jeremy Pike. He's a good agent and you worked together before."

Suddenly troubled Jim frowned. "Is it one of your famous intuitions?"

Marmie purred and nuzzled against its owner's hand, resting its head against his palm. Artie shook his head. "I don't know. But I would come back to you."

Jim continued, "By the way, I sent a telegram to Colonel Richmond telling him that you were sick. You are officially on medical leave for a week, starting now and as for me, as I can't work without you, because we're partners, I'm officially off duty for a week too. We're going to stay here in Kansas City and do whatever we want, Artie." He patted his best friend's shoulder with affection. Then he started petting the cat's head. Marmie purred and shifted on Artie's legs so she was sprawled out on her back. Complying with the mute but obvious demand, he stroked the cat's white furred belly. "How do you feel pal? Are you hungry?"

Artemus flashed his companion a wide smile. "I'm fine and I'm not hungry, but famished!"

Jim chuckled. "You're famished? Then that's official, you're fine. I prepared a vegetable soup and if you're a good patient, you'll have a desert: an apple pie."

Narrowing his eyes in suspicion Artie tsk-tsked and managed to sit on his bed, causing Marmie to roll onto her legs, upright.

She leaped on the table and sat at up on her hind legs.

Meow!

Frowning now, Artie said, "It's bad to lie Jim. You're incapable of cooking a simple hard-boiled egg, and then you made a soup and even a dessert?" He scratched the itching stubble on his chin. "Who prepared that? Tell me, and no lies, partner."

Raising his hand Jim said. "Okay. I am guilty as charged. It's the cook of the Golden Eagle Saloon. I paid him to bring food here until you feel better." He put his arm behind Artemus's shoulders and levered him into a sitting position. Then he piled two pillows at his back.

Meow!

Looking at his cat Artie said, "She's hungry too."

Meow!

Grinning like the cat that just ate the canary, Artemus leaned against the headboard. He crossed his arms on his chest and said, "As I am on medical leave, I won't make any cuisine – at all - because I need to rest and that means I won't be enslaved in the galley. You'll have to pay that cook for a week, partner. I'm going to make you a list of what I'd like to eat."

Jim scowled. "Could you at least prepare some coffee?"

WWW

 _Kansas City, Golden Eagle saloon, two days later._

The girls on the small stage had been finishing dancing the French cancan when Jim West and Artemus Gordon entered the saloon.

They both sat on opposite sides of a table and Jim gestured toward a lovely brunette, circulating amid the tables, taking orders.

She smiled at Jim and Artemus and collected the empty glass sitting in the middle of the table, offering the two men a nice view down her red, décolleté, tightly laced corset.

She offered Jim a broad, warm, smile. ""What can I get you, handsome?"

Smiling too, politely, Jim said, "Two beers."

The waitress smiled in return, "Right away green eyes. My name's Lyvia." Then she left, slowly undulating her hips in a seductive movement.

Artie rolled his eyes. "You know, I have noticed that many women are attracted by green eyes – and not by brown ones – like mine."

Chuckling, Jim looked at his best friend. "If it's any consolation, you have beautiful brown eyes, buddy. But women prefer green eyes – like mine." He chuckled softly.

He looked around him, scanning the vast room to detect possible trouble. The smoky and noisy saloon was crowded with different kinds of people: cowboys, cavalry troopers, some notables of the city… seated around tables. And old bartender was wiping clean glasses behind his counter, with a cloth, and at the end of the bar a black cat lapped a little milk in a saucer.

No threat on the horizon, he mused and he relaxed.

The piano man and the musicians were taking a break near the stairs, a glass of beer in one hand, their instrument in the other - except the pianist who had his back turned to his instrument.

Looking again at the dancing girls gathered on the stage, Artie said, "About green eyes… I had an idea a couple of weeks ago. Sometimes people recognize my eyes even when I am disguised… and it's bad for me. I had the idea of thin lenses; like miniaturized spectacle lenses that we could place directly on the surface of the eye. It could replace the glasses, and we could color them in blue or in green… No one would recognize my eyes if they were blue or green…of course, I don't know what to use as material to make them a reality. Glass is out of the question, of course, it would be too dangerous in case of an accident. Maybe I could use some sort of transparent medium, conforming to the actual shape of the eye, and those lenses should be tolerated by the eye to remain on them… It's very complex."

Jim smiled, amazed. "Artemus Gordon the Great Inventor!" He noticed that his best friend had his eyes riveted on the dancing girls gathered on the stage. "Perhaps we could invite them to our table, Artie, what do you think?" he proposed.

Artemus nodded. "Oh! That's a good idea Jim. But I'm sorry to tell you that but I'm still too weak to dance. I only left my bed this morning."

The lovely waitress set two foaming mugs before the two agents. Lyvia leaned back to Jim, and purred, "I end my service in half an hour." She grinned mischievously. "Room 14, first floor, don't be late green eyes. I've planned something special for us…"

She blew a kiss to Jim – totally ignoring Artie again, and headed back toward the bar, waving her hips seductively again.

Pushing a glass of beer toward his partner, Artie said, "James T. West, the man whom no woman in the country can resist… I'm transparent when a woman is interested in you – but I don't mind, I'm used to it. You know that. I hope their beer is as good as their cuisine." He wet his lips in the amber liquid, took a mouthful then smiled. "It's perfect! Cold and good."

Jim took a gulp of his beer. "Yes, you're right."

The piano man and the musicians started to play a new tune and the show girls began another acrobatic dance on the small stage.

Sipping their beer they watched the spectacle – a new French cancan – enjoying it and then applauded with the others when the girls finished their dance.

Holding his now half empty glass Jim smiled. "You know Artie, you should be sick more often so you could have medical leave and I, be off duty." He took a new sip of his beer. "

Following Artie's gaze, he looked again at the girls who were leaving the stage and slaloming between the tables and the men seated around them, attracting wolf whistles.

Artie smiled. They're all lovely," he said as the piano player started to play. Then he said, "Jim… Something's wrong, I…"

He stopped, feeling bizarre. His ol' noggin here felt like it was full of tapioca! He mused. And noticed that everyone around him was moving in slow motion. "Jim, something's definitively wrong here…" he said, his voice sounding distant. He looked at Jim, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "The beer was drug…drug… drugged," he slurred.

He wanted to stand but his whole body was numb. His head dropped limply on his chest and then he collapsed on the table, sound asleep.

Jim stood up, his vision blurred, swaying, and had to grip the table to stay upright. He moved, slowly towards his partner and took his pulse. He found one.

He sighed in relief. Artemus hadn't been poisoned, but drugged – like him. Through a grey veil in front of his eyes, he noticed two men, heading in Artie's and his direction, in slow motion.

He took his revolver.

His knees were wobbling as the room began to spin at an alarming speed. They finally buckled beneath him and he rolled onto the floor and darkness overcame him.

Tbc.


	3. Act Two

**THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT TWO**

 _Loveless's hideout, much later_

 _In a cell_

James West woke up in semi-darkness, sitting on the ground, his arms shackled above his head, feeling a bit lightheaded.

But the effects of the drug had almost worn off.

He made a rapid survey of the room which was weakly lit by a torch: it was a cell with thick stone walls and no opening – except for the door made of solid metal.

He was alone and wearing just his underwear. No clothes meant no gadgets and no chance to free himself, he mused.

He let out a resigned sigh. Only one person usually removed their clothes and left Artie and he in their underwear: Miguelito Loveless.

Once again Artie and he were his prisoners.

He frowned, worried, wondering where Artie was and what the Doctor was doing to him. In any case, nothing good.

WWW

 _In the lab_

Miguelito Loveless climbed onto the stool then perched himself over Artemus Gordon, lying strapped to an examination table, still sound asleep. "He should be conscious by now."

Belladonna smiled. "Don't worry Miguelito, our man in the saloon, the cook, told us he had a very bad cold, remember? He's still weak and the drug probably affected him more because of that. Don't worry; he should open his eyes soon."

Loveless nodded. "I know, but we are wasting precious time! I want him to work on that knock-out gas formula as soon as possible. It took me almost two days to locate Mr. West and Mr. Gordon in Kansas City and 24 hours to bring them here. The federal money transport is scheduled to reach Fort Hartfield Saturday at 9:00, in only three days. We have to intercept it before then." He started slapping Artie's face, coaxing him to wake. "Wake up Mr. Gordon, wake up!"

Artemus finally opened his eyes, blinked, realizing that someone was slapping his face and glared at the shorter man. "Stop that immediately!"

Miguelito Loveless smiled. "Ah! Mr. Gordon, I'm happy to see you finally awake. You had me worried. Good. Now we can finally begin."

Artie quickly assimilated the situation: he was strapped down to an examination table, in a well- furbished chemistry lab, prisoner of Miguelito Loveless. He noticed the presence of a young blond woman too – probably Loveless's new henchwoman, he thought and smiled. "Hello, lovely lady, how do you do?" he asked, always gallant with the fair sex. "I've never seen you before. Where's Antoinette?"

Belladonna huffed contemptuously and said, "It's not important. I took her place. Now I am at Miguelito's side. That's the most important thing."

Miguelito Loveless stepped down from the stool and headed toward a cart, which he rolled close to the examination table. He took a syringe that was lying on it, already filled with a blue liquid. Artie did his best poker face so as not to show his worry. "It's a very interesting drug Mr. Gordon, I concocted it myself. It makes people _amenable_ to anything, you see. For example once it runs in your veins, you will work for me _obediently_ on a special knock-out gas formula I really need, and quickly, as you're an expert in these formulas. Then, when it's over, I will send you to kill your partner and after that, to put an end to the famous West-Gordon duo, you will kill yourself." He grinned. "Don't you think it's brilliant?"

Artemus swallowed the lump in his throat and feigning not being interested, looked up at the rocky ceiling and golden chandeliers. "It won't work, your plan will fail, Loveless, like all the previous ones. It's inevitable. It's written, it's destiny."

Loveless's eyes flashed with anger. "Not this time Mr. Gordon, not this time." He abruptly calmed down, smiled and said, "everything has an end". Then he pushed the needle into the crook of Artemus's left arm. "The drug's effect is long-lasting. You'll be under its influence for 12 hours. Then I will give you another injection. You see, Mr. Gordon, you're going to really enjoy this: this drug permits the taking over of the brain functions but leaves the _conscious_ free. You'll be aware of whatever happens, but not bei able to do anything about it. You'll be a prisoner in your own body, Mr. Gordon. So! What do you think of my 'willpower suppressor drug'?

Artie blanched and grunted. "You're sick Loveless!"

Loveless chuckled. "I was sure you would appreciate it, Mr. Gordon."

It only took one minute or so for the drug to act. Loveless took Artie's chin in one hand and turned it toward him, noticing the slack face and the vacant eyes.

Loveless removed the restraints. "Sit!" he ordered. Artie complied unflinchingly. "Good! Good! Now you are going to obey all of my commands. Only mine. You are going to work on an odorless and colorless knock-out gas formula. You have everything you need to make it, here. This lab is probably the best equipped in the whole country! Now move! I want results before Friday evening. You will not leave your place before that, you understand? Respond!"

Artemus Gordon nodded. "I understand," he said his voice toneless." Then like he was hypnotized he moved toward the long, large table, covered with chemical equipment.

Miguelito rubbed his hands in glee. "Perfect! We'll be very, very, rich soon, Belladonna. One million dollars rich exactly. But it's time now to pay a visit to my other guest."

Belladonna smiled. "Yes, Mr. West."

WWW

 _Later_

The door of the cell opened and Miguelito Loveless entered the room, followed by a bulky armed minion. "Hello Mr. West, it's always so pleasant to see you again."

Jim West smiled politely, "All the pleasure is yours, Doctor." Then unimpressed, he crossed his arms on his chest and asked the little man, "Alright, what is it this time? You want to be king of California? Emperor of the USA perhaps, it does sound better."

Loveless smiled. "Very funny, but it's a good idea. No, nothing like that Mr. West. I just want one million dollars to be able to continue my scientific work. Pieces of equipment are very expensive you know, especially those made in gold and of very rare materials. I will soon work on an * incredible * machine, that – even with your vast intelligence – you couldn't understand, let alone appreciate, but your brotherly partner, yes. Artemus Gordon has a brilliant scientific mind and he's sharp-witted. But you won't see my machine, neither one of you, because you'll be dead. I need funds, Mr. West, and my plan is to attack the federal money transport before it reaches Fort Hartfield Saturday at 9:00 and to take the gold. "His eyes gleamed at the prospect.

Jim shook his head. "It's impossible. The convoy will be protected by a complete regiment of cavalry of well-trained soldiers."

Loveless's smile grew broader. "Oh but I will succeed, Mr. West, with the precious help of your partner, Mr. Gordon. He's working on an odorless and colorless knock-out gas formula, right now. I will get rid of those soldiers in no time. I needed his help. He's quite an expert in that domain."

Jim's frowned, worried. "What did you do to him, Loveless? Artie wouldn't have accepted working for you of his own free will."

Miguelito Loveless put his hand on the handle of the door, ready to depart, the goon moving ahead of him into the weakly lit corridor.

He smiled like a crocodile. "Let's say that I injected your dear best friend with a drug that makes him amenable to anything. I control his mind – but not his conscious. He's completely aware of working for me for but can't do anything to resist it. He's my puppet. " He chuckled and added, "Trapped in his own body, Mr. Gordon is certainly very angry and very frustrated too. Don't worry; he's safe – for now. When all this is over, I make sure he comes here to say hello." With a sinister laugh he closed the door behind him.

Jim blanched.

WWW

 _Friday evening_

His hand caressing a big transparent bottle containing a transparent liquid (the knock out gas formula), Miguelito Loveless looked up at Artemus, looking very satisfied. "I knew you would find that formula Mr. Gordon, I had and still have every confidence in your talents as a chemist." He frowned, puzzled. The other man looked like a dead body. "Are you unwell?"

The other man's face was ghastly and strained with exhaustion, haggard, with dark rings under his eyes, and sunken bloodshot eyes. He was barely standing on his legs and intermittent tremors racked his hunched frame. "Yes."

Loveless then realized that the older man hadn't sleep, ate and drank for almost three days and nights in a row. He nodded. "Ah yes, I completely forgot that and you didn't complain – of course. Forgive me; I'm not a very good host. It's time for you to kill that pesky partner of yours, before you crumple on the ground, dead. Follow me." He glanced at the henchman, built like a mountain, standing beside the door. "You come with us, Kayton. We never know. I have learned the hard way that anything is possible with Mr. West and Mr. Gordon, even the impossible. And I will need your gun."

Still heavily drugged Artemus followed Loveless without a blink, Kayton in tow. Five minutes later, the three men entered the cell where Jim was held prisoner.

Eyes wide open, Jim couldn't help but let out a gasp, shocked by his best friend's appearance. He looked dead on his feet. Really dead on his feet. "My God, Artie!"

Loveless smiled. "Yes, your best friend here is in very bad shape, as you can see. He's totally exhausted, he's starving and he's dehydrated. To sum up, he's dying. But before he dies, he's going to kill you, Mr. West, and then he'll kill himself." He looked up at Kayton. "Kayton give your gun to Mr. Gordon, and Mr. Gordon, take it, please."

The two men complied.

Loveless then looked up at Artemus and ordered, "Point your gun at James West!" And Artie complied immediately. He smiled. "He will kill you, Mr. West, because he can't refuse any of my orders. Imagine how he feels in his head right now… He's on the verge of killing a man he loves like his own brother… and can't do anything to prevent it. I'm sure he's horrified, distressed, sick… and totally helpless and furious too. And I'm sure he'd love to point that gun at me."

Swallowing hard, Jim looked up at his executioner as Artie took aim. "Artie! Don't do it. Resist and fight that impulse. Don't let Loveless control you."

Miguelito Loveless smiled. "You're wasting your time, Mr. West. Your partner is entirely under my control. He can't do anything but to obey my command." Turning to the older agent he said, "When I say shoot, you will kill him, then you will put the mouth of the gun against your temple and pull the trigger. Do you understand my orders Mr. Gordon? Answer me!"

Artemus nodded. "Yes, I do," he said, his eyes glassy. He was now sweating profusely and his whole body was shaking.

Loveless raised his hand. "Au revoir Mr. West – no, goodbye, because you won't be coming back, neither will your partner. Mr. Gordon, get ready…"

Artie pulled back the hammer and the cylinder of the .45 Peacemaker moved into position as he teetered a bit on his feet, deathly pale.

He was ready to fire.

Jim shook his head, his eyes locked on Artie's. "Artie, no!"

Loveless took a few steps back to have a better view, grinning widely and looking unbelievably thrilled. "Mr. Gordon n…"

A goon suddenly erupted into the room, interrupting Loveless. "There's a problem with the convoy Doctor," he said. "They have changed the route. Our men following the federal money transport heard about a possible attack from bandits. What do we do now?"

Loveless groaned with irritation, stomping his foot. "You just ruined the _best moment of my whole life_ , Clarke! I should kill you for that!" He looked down at his chained prisoner. "I'm sorry, but I have to postpone your execution, Mr. West. As you can see, I have a sudden important matter to attend to. It should not take long. In the meantime, enjoy your reunion with your partner." He looked up at Artemus. "Wait for me here, for new instructions," he commanded, and then he left.

Once loveless was gone Jim moved toward Artemus, pulling on his shackles. "Artie, buddy, listen to me. You have to help me."

But Artie didn't move or say anything. He remained immobile like a statue, his face blank, expressionless and silent, waiting for new instructions.

Artie had been drugged, not hypnotized like he was two years ago by professor Arcularis, Jim mused. But he looked exactly the same: a puppet. "Oh, Artie..."

He suddenly snapped his fingers. People hypnotized by Arcularis had managed to fight the programming and they had freed themselves. Perhaps it could work here too. It was worth a try. "Artie, Loveless controls your mind but not your conscious, right? All you have to do is resist and fight that impulse and fight Artie! Do it! Do it! You're a strong-willed man I know. You can do it."

But Artemus Gordon didn't move a muscle, frozen like a Greek statue.

Jim tried again. "Artie, please, you can do it. Resist and fight that impulse. You can do it pal."

Artie's face was now ashen gray and his whole body agitated with tremors, James noticed, terribly afraid for him. Artie was ready to drop dead.

Literally.

Helpless, Jim took a step back, his heart hammering in his chest. He was horrified. His best friend was dying within arm's reach and he couldn't do anything about it. "Artie, if you can hear me… I'm sorry I can't save you. But you won't be alone buddy. I'll join you shortly because Loveless is going to kill me. We'll be together again soon and forever. No one will separate and harm us, ever."

Crying now, Artemus closed his eyes. His face was a grimace of pain. He opened them again, blinking slowly, and let out a strangled sob. "Jim… drug… is wearing… off… I'm… dying… free…" He said in a barely audible voice.

Artemus dropped his revolver to the ground. His eyes rolled and his whole body going limp, boneless, he fell forward to the floor like a ragdoll.

Immediately Jim grabbed his partner's hand and pulled Artie's spasm-wracked body to him. "It's going to be okay, Artie. I'm not going to let you die. Hang in there. You're not going to die on me." He grabbed the Colt, hid it behind his back and moved back. "Guard! Guard!" he called. The door opened a few seconds later and a burly man entered the cell. "My partner needs help! See what's wrong with him – I'm sure that Dr. loveless wants him to be okay. My partner has important things to do for him."

The man moved forward. He knelt beside Artemus's immobile supine form and… found himself with the muzzle of a .45 against his brow.

Ignoring the tears running down his face, his face like granite, Jim cocked the hammer of his gun. "Not a word or I swear, you're dead. Now, release me," he commanded." The guard did what he was told. "Now take my friend here and lead the way to the exit. No tricks! I won't hesitate a second to shoot you."

Loveless's henchman pulled Artie's limp body upright then settled the older agent on his shoulder. They took a long corridor and after five minutes came out into a stable.

The large door was open outward.

"Alright friend," Jim said. "Place my friend on that chestnut gelding over there and use a rope to secure him on the saddle."

Once the man had complied, James used the butt of his gun to knock out the goon, then jumped on the horse and hit the animal's flank.

Soon the two agents were out of the stable.

WWW

 _Later_

One hour later, Jim halted the horse at a river's edge. He rapidly dismounted, hurried to untie Artie from the saddle and dragged him to the clear, cold water. The other man was dehydrated and could die anytime, he thought, his brow furrowed in deep worry.

He had to do something and quick. That's why he plunged his partner under water to soak him, brought him to the surface then pinched his nose, forcing him to open his mouth to breathe. Then he cupped a little water with his hand and poured it into the older man's mouth, slowly. Eyes still closed, half-conscious, Artemus coughed, sputtered but managed to keep down a little water.

Smiling, pleased, Jim repeated the action till he was sure that Artie had drunk enough. Then he gently lay Artemus down on the grassy river bank. He removed his partner's soaked clothes, leaving him in his underwear and splashed him with water. "There, you're going to be okay Artie. You're not going to die, no, not if I can prevent it", he said.

Once Artemus's skin was damp enough, Jim moved his best friend into the shade of a tree to protect him from the sun. He took Artie's pulse and was both immensely pleased and relieved to notice it was strong and steady again. He beamed. Artemus would be out cold for a long time, but he was safe, he mused. He sank to his knees, feeling suddenly drained. "That was close, I almost lost him," he breathed, watching his companion's chest move up and down regularly.

The young chestnut quarter horse moved toward the unconscious man and sniffed him thoroughly before moving backward and nodding.

Jim chuckled. "Yes, big boy, your new master here is going to be okay." He stood up and patted the gelding's flank. "Artie needed a new horse; I think he's got one." He looked around him and saw an opening between two big, rounded rocks: the entrance to a cave. "Alright, we're going to hide here. Loveless is probably searching for us right now."

WWW

 _Later_

Once Artemus Gordon and the horse were in the cave, James West cut big branches out from the surrounding bushes and camouflaged the entrance.

Half an hour later he heard horses gallop not far away, men crying, "Search for them guys!" and "Find them, the boss wants them!" and then the men went away.

Jim sighed in relief. They were safe for now. At night, they will leave the cave, protected and hid by darkness, he mused.

He grinned as the chestnut gelding was again sniffing Artie's still damp hair. "You really like him, don't you? I'm going to call you Sniffer, until your master finds a name for you, big boy."

Artie gave an almost imperceptible huff and Jim heard it. He moved beside his best friend and gently patted his thick stubble. "Artie, wake up buddy." He did it again and again. Artemus didn't react at first, then he let out a moan, then another and his eyes fluttered open. "That's it Artie, come on, open your eyes." He was now shaking the other man's shoulder. "Artie!"

Sniffer thought he had to participate too and she buried her nostrils into Artemus's hair again. Artemus finally opened his eyes and gasped in surprise when he saw the horse's head above his. Eyebrows lifted he looked up at Jim, kneeling beside him, looking down at him, grinning. "Jim? There's a horse trying to graze my hair…" he said hoarsely.

Jim chuckled. "He's not grazing your hair, he's just very affectionate. That big boy here sort of adopted you. How do you feel Artie?"

Artemus placed a hand on his heart, feeling it beat beneath his fingers. "I'm alive – and not drugged anymore. I'm in control of my body again. "Oh god!" He buried his strained face in his hands. "That was an awful sensation Jim," he added grabbing James' hand, trying to keep tears at bay. "I was prisoner of my own body; I was unable to do anything. I couldn't move a muscle, a finger, nothing." Tears finally rolled on his cheeks. "I heard you in that cell you know and tried to fight, I tried to resist but…it was impossible. I was freed only because the drug was wearing off." He wiped his raspy cheeks with the back of his hand. "I worked for Loveless for almost three days and nights in a row, without eating, drinking, sleeping – I was like slave. I didn't want to Jim, I didn't want to find that formula, but I couldn't do anything to prevent it, anything..." He paused, feeling suddenly immensely tired and slurred fighting drowsiness, "What… happened after… I passed out?"

Jim smiled. "It's a long story Artie and you're in no shape to listen it for now."

Artie nodded. "No I'm not."

Before Artemus fell asleep Jim had just enough time to say, "I don't know where we are, but I know that you need to see a doctor. We'll leave at night, discreetly. I saw a trail our way here. We'll follow it."

Artie slurred something unintelligible, his head lolled to the side and moments later he was sleeping, breaths deep and even.

WWW

 _Later, at night._

Jim halted the gelding, retrieved the canteen and gave it to Artie sat on the saddle in front on him "How are you feeling pal?"

Artie took a mouthful of water. "I'm so tired that I could sleep for a whole week – and it's what I'll probably do if we reach a hotel."

Smiling James put the canteen back at its place and taking the reins in one hand, he encircled Artemus's waist with the other one, leaning the older man against his chest so Artie wouldn't fall off. "Loveless henchmen probably went back to his hideout empty handed, fortunately for us."

Artie mumbled something incomprehensible and closed his eyes. He stayed limp as he dozed off and one the entire ride.

They rode the length of the railroad for long hours, the full moon lighting the darkness. They finally reached the outskirts of a town at dawn.

WWW

 _Loveless's new hideout, somewhere._

Loveless angrily hit the table with his fist, twice.

He was furious. West and Gordon had escaped – again!

Belladonna smiled soothingly. "I know, but you can still capture them anytime you want, Miguelito. And you will I'm sure. At least Mr. West, because Mr. Gordon is probably dead. He was in very bad shape you told me, close to his last breath."

Miguelito huffed. "He's still alive, I bet, my dear. Mr. West managed to save him somehow, but that's a good thing after all, yes. Killing James West alone would be half-fun only." He took Gordon's notes and frowned. It was a suite of letters, signs, and drawings, all mixed and written in every direction on the pages. "He coded his notes. I can't reproduce his formula. Oh, I hate him!"

The young woman nodded. "That's easy Miguelito, capture him again, and with some persuasion, he'll de-code them."

Loveless looked at the open chest containing one million dollars in gold bars. "Later, for now I have to think about improving my new machine. Has my guest arrived?"

Belladonna nodded. "Yes, Professor Pinket is in the guest room. His machine has been transported to the lab. What kind of machine are you working on, Miguelito?"

Miguelito rubbed his hands with intense pleasure. "An extraordinary machine that can 'transport' people a great distance within minutes. I based it on Pr. Pinket's machine. I'm going to improve it, that's why I needed the professor's expertise. It should be ready in a few days."

WWW

 _Later, in the local doctor's office._

Jim handed Artie over to the local doctor, borrowed some clothes from him, and then hurried to the telegraph office.

He sent a telegram to Fort Hartfield describing where Loveless's hideout was, demanding a detachment of cavalry search the area, then he sent another one to Washington telling Colonel Richmond what had happened, the complete story, but abridged.

Richmond sent a telegram back a few minutes later and Jim read: Federal money transport robbed – stop – Loveless and his men vanished – stop – the Wanderer waiting for you in Kansas City – stop – rendezvous in Washington as soon as you can – stop – Artemus Gordon needs a complete medical evaluation – stop – Col. Richmond – stop.

Jim looked at the telegraph employee and asked him, "Are we far from Kansas City?"

The other man shook his head. "No about two days by the stagecoach with of course a few halts along the way, Sir."

Jim sighed. Artie needed to be taken care of in a hospital. "When is the next stagecoach scheduled to depart?"

The employee rubbed his temple. "Er… at 10 o'clock I think."

WWW

Jim looked at doctor Jenkins, standing on other side of Artemus who was lying on an examination table. "How is he?" he asked, frowning with concern.

The very old man touched Artie's warm forehead. "He's very pale and a bit feverish but it's something that's both common and harmless when someone is suffering from total exhaustion. The only thing to do is to let him sleep peacefully. He'll rouse from time to time then fall asleep again. It will be necessary during these periods – generally short – to give him plenty of fluids and something to eat, to help him regain some strength." He pulled a colored blanket up to the older agent's shoulders and then took his pulse. "His pulse is strong and steady. Don't worry, son, he's in no danger anymore. "

The sheriff entered the room, hand on his gun. He nodded to Jenkins then moved towards Jim. "The doc here sent his nurse to fetch me… What is happening here? Who are you?"

Jim pulled out Artie's identification card and plaque from the inside pocket of his best friend's jacket and showed it to the lawman. "My name is James West; my partner here is Artemus Gordon. We're both federal agents working for the secret services. We've been attacked and my friend needs to go to a hospital. Thus I need to requisition the stagecoach sheriff. Doctor, you're going to help me to set up at stretcher in the passenger compartment, so my friend can travel more easily."

Doctor Jenkins nodded. "Alright, I'll prepare a makeshift mattress with some blankets so he can lie comfortably on the stretcher."

Jim smiled. "Thank you, doctor."

Tbc.


	4. Act Three

**THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT THREE**

 _Three days later in the Wanderer._

The train whistle woke up Artemus Gordon with a start. He groggily opened his eyes and looked around him, recognizing his sleeping compartment onboard the Wanderer.

He propped himself up on his elbows, feeling the train start, and frowned, puzzled. "What happened?" he asked himself.

The last thing he remembered was being sat on a horse, leant back against Jim and… nothing else.

He stood, swaying on unsteady legs, when he felt the train pick up speed.

He rapidly draped himself in his robe and headed towards the parlor car, his stomach growling. He was famished.

Artie found Jim sitting at the table, eating equally burnt scrambled eggs and slices of bacon. He eyed the almost carbonized pancakes and the bottle of maple syrup hungrily, said "Hiya Jim!" cheerfully and took a place on a chair in front of his best friend. He piled up pancakes on his plate, poured maple syrup on top and started wolfing the whole thing down, making pleased noises. He paused to pour himself a cup of molasses-like coffee and finally said, "Boy! I'm so hungry, I could eat a horse!' he smiled. "I'm so hungry that I'm going to eat all the * burnt * food that you prepared."

He took a sip of so-called coffee and grimaced. "Gaaah!"

Jim smiled. "Hi Artie. I see that you love my coffee. As you're devouring all the pancakes, I suppose you're feeling better?" Artie nodded, his mouth full of pancake, or what was left of it. "Speaking of horses, your new chestnut gelding is in the stable car, befriending Chestnut and Blackjack… You have two horses now, Artie. Your new horse is young, well-built, solid… perhaps you should sell old Chestnut to someone who would take care of him. Chestnut is old and needs to retire."

Pouring maple syrup on a new pile of pancakes, Artie nodded. "You're right, I love my Chestnut… but he has earned his retirement. Okay, I'm going to think about that." He swallowed a piece of overcooked dough and then asked, "How long was I out? And what happened after we both reached that town?"

Jim poured himself another cup of coffee. "I had a stretcher put up in the stagecoach – the only way to reach Kansas City. You slept for three days in a row, or almost, the first part in the stagecoach and the second part here, in your bed. It was a long sleep. I gave you some water and food when you were conscious. You probably don't remember anything."

Artie shook his head. "No, I don't remember anything at all. What about Loveless and the federal money transport? Did he rob it?

Jim nodded. "Yes, he did, using your odorless and colorless knock-out gas, sorry Artie. But don't feel responsible alright?" He saw Artie frown, feeling and looking guilty. "He forced you to make that formula. He and his goons vanished shortly after the attack of the convoy. A detachment of cavalry searched the area where his hideout lair was and found it, but it was empty of course. Loveless and his henchmen and Belladonna were long gone. We'll meet again one day, though."

Artie sighed. "Oh, I'm sure. But what consoles me is that he had just enough knock-out gas to rob that money. Even if he has my notes, they are only decipherable by me. I always make coded notes in case they fall into bad hands. So, what happens next? Where are we heading? Do we have another assignment?"

James shook his head. "No assignment. We're heading to Washington where you'll have a complete medical evaluation in the hospital."

Placing a piece of omelet in his plate, Artie sighed. "The only thing I like in a hospital – is the presence of lovely nurses."

Jim grinned. "Yes, and by lovely nurses, I'm sure that you're thinking about Laura, Emma, Katherine, and Elizabeth… all those lovely day nurses working there. Oh and I forgot the night nurses, Penelope, Flora, Chloe…"

Artie smiled broadly. "Mmm, James my boy, you're right." He raised a stern finger. "And I'm not sharing. They are all for me."

The two friends looked at each other for a moment, and then broke into laughter.

WWW

 _The White House a week later, evening._

Colonel Richmond opened the door of the Oval Office and gestured to the two agents waiting outside in the corridor. "Come in please, gentlemen."

Gordon and West entered the vast room and followed their superior. The three men stopped in front of the presidential desk.

President Ulysses S. Grant lifted his eyes from the files he was reading and smiled. "Take a seat, gentlemen. We have a lot to discuss." After they complied he looked at Artemus who was slightly shifting in his chair, visibly feeling ill at ease. He suppressed a chuckle. "Relax Mr. Gordon; I'm not going to tell you off because you made that knock-out gas formula Loveless used to rob one million dollars. I just read Mr. West's report, you were drugged and forced to prepare that formula against your will. You're not responsible for what happened." Seeing that Artemus was relaxing he continued, "We'll put Loveless in jail gentlemen, one day, the sooner, the better." He furrowed his brow in concern. "Now how do you feel Artemus? You almost died there."

Artie smiled. "I'm fine Mr. President, thank you. Doctor Henderson, the U.S. Army CMO gave to me a clean bill of health. I'm waiting for a new assignment, Sir."

Grant smiled. Artemus Gordon and his partner James West were positively both indestructible. He nodded. "Very good. What do you know about Professor Aloysius Pinket?"

Artemus smiled. "I know him very well, Sir. He was one of my professors at the university. He's a genius in his domain. He's professor of applied physics. He's been working for years now on a theoretical transfer of matter into energy, for example a man, thanks to a tremendous source of power, could be converted into energy – in some kind of electrical current - the professor calls it, _dematerialization_ , and could, by means of a wire, be transported to distant places where he would be converted into matter again – _rematerialized_." He smiled. "Imagine if it works! It would revolutionize transportation! No more horses and carriages, no more boats or ships… It's brilliant! Unrealizable yet, Mr. President, but promising." His enthusiasm plummeted suddenly, and frowning with concern, he asked. "Did something happen to the professor Mr. President?"

Grant nodded in his turn. "Yes, he was kidnapped two days ago, Artemus. The machine he was working on that he called a "'matter-energy transmitter' vanished too. Apparently Professor Pinket managed to apply his theory on something very real."

Artie was stunned. "He realized the machine? That's extraordinary!"

Grant nodded. "I don't share your enthusiasm Artemus. The people who kidnapped the professor and stole his machine have something bad in mind, and I want to know what it is. I want you to retrieve professor Pinket, with his machine, and arrest the men behind it."

Artemus and Jim looked at each other, thinking the same thing at the same time. Jim spoke first: "When I was a prisoner of Dr. Loveless, he told me, and I quote "I will soon work on an _incredible_ machine and I need funds", that's why he stole all that gold, Sir. I think that Loveless is behind all this."

Artie nodded. "I think that too, Sir. And knowing Loveless's capacity to create extraordinary machines, he'll probably improve professor Pinket's machine, so it is more powerful, more efficient – and God knows what he's planning to do with it."

Grant nodded, visibly really, really worried. "Gentlemen you have your new assignment. I'm counting on you, I know that you won't fail, you never have."

Artie raised his hand. "Sir, do you know someone who would be interested by my old horse Chestnut? A new one has adopted me."

WWW

 _The Wanderer, the same night_

Artemus Gordon sat down on a bale of hay and lowered his head against his chest before closing his eyes, feeling very tired.

He had spent the last hour giving a rub-down to his new quarter horse and that simple task had left him completely drained.

He needed a vacation to recover from his medical leave, he mused with a smile. 'You're starting to get old,' he thought, and sighed. He had got back his strength from his last ordeal but he was still fragile. 'By the time Jim and you find Loveless - it could take days, maybe weeks -, you'll be in top form,' he added in his head. 'Let's hope we find him.'

The gelding lowered his head toward Artie and rubbed his nose against Artie's head. Artemus smiled. "You like my hair, don't you?" he asked, stroking the horse's muzzle.

One minute later, James West entered the stable car and crossed his arms on his chest grinning. "There you are. I was sure I'd find you here with your 'new best friend'. It's great that President Grant adopted the old Chestnut. He has a stall in the White House's stable now, and I'm sure he'll like parading in the streets with his new mates. He'll be fine there, all pampered and loved."

The chestnut gelding lowered his head and sniffed at his new master's hair. "Second best," Artie said opening his eyes and raising his head. "You're my first best friend, Jim – so don't be jealous, and I'm happy for Chestnut. He's in good hands, the President loves horses. I know he will take good care of him." He smiled and caressed the horse between his eyes. "Yes, yes, you're a good boy." He traced the patches of white hairs there and found a pattern; they formed a very big lockpick. "I'm going to call you Lockpick." The horse nickered and head-butted Artemus's chest. "You like your new name? Good!"

Noticing Artie's pallor and his strained features, Jim frowned with concern. "You okay Artie?"

Artie nodded. "Yes, I'm okay, I'm just a bit tired, that's all. Nothing that a good night's sleep can't cure. Don't worry." He stood up gave his horse an affectionate slap on its rear. "Good-night, Lockpick. And don't let that black stallion over there upset you, okay?"

Lockpick snorted in response.

Artemus followed his best friend to the parlor car and poured himself a glass of brandy. He sank into the plush cushions of the couch, rubbed his tired eyes and said, "It won't be easy to locate Loveless Jim, he could be anywhere in the country. And he's not going to show himself before the machine is ready. It would be too risky for him. So he's hiding."

James nodded and took his place beside Artie. "I know, but he'll need special equipment, special materials. Based on the Loveless machines we know and even tested – especially you Artie - we can make a list. Let's have those specialized suppliers under close surveillance – I'm sure they will lead us to Loveless. There aren't many people selling those kinds of things in the country."

Artie patted Jim's knee. "That's a brilliant idea, Jim. I'm going to send a telegram to Colonel Richmond to fill him in on that."

Jim shook his head. "I will. You my friend, you have a rendezvous with your bed. You're dead on your feet." He smiled. "I don't want to pick you up from the carpet."

Artemus gulped down his brandy and stood up, swaying a little. He patted his best friend's shoulder. "Alright, thanks Jim. Goodnight."

James smiled, "Goodnight Artie, sleep well."

WWW

 _Later_

It was close to midnight when Jim decided it was time for him to go to bed. His book was really good, but he would finish it tomorrow evening.

As he headed toward his sleeping compartment he heard loud moans and even strangled sobs coming from his best friend's room.

Instantly alarmed, he knocked at Artie's door and then entered the weakly -lit room and froze on the spot.

Artemus was lying on his bunk, thrashing about, eyes clenched closed, breathing ragged, tangled in the sheets, his hands flying in every direction like he was fighting an invisible enemy. "No, no, no! Please no, I can't do that, I can't, noooo!" he let out, hoarsely.

Jim was at his best friend's side in a second. He reached forward and shook him gently by the shoulders. "Artie!" he spoke urgently, "It's all right. I'm here. It's a nightmare. Wake up!"

"No!" Artemus yelled and he jerked back awake, arms flailing and heart pounding in his chest. He tried to sit up. His eyes were open wide and glazed, confused. He blinked, as he didn't recognize his surroundings, and then he remembered where he was and stared up into his Jim's concerned eyes, "Jim? He whispered, "Is that you? But I thought… I thought I had killed you… I thought you were dead by my hand. Are you real?"

Smiling reassuringly, Jim gripped his partner's hands tightly, "Feel my hands, they're warm, I'm alive. I'm real, I'm here, Artie." He pulled Artie against him and Artie sobbed against his shoulder. He soothed his companion by running his fingers through his tousled hair. "Shhh… You're all right, Artie, you're alright. It was just a nightmare. Everything's okay," he said.

The two separated slightly and Artie buried his pale face, wet with tears, into his trembling hands. "Ooh! What an awful dream!" he said, as he relived his nightmare in accelerated detail. He felt a chill race through him. "God!" He choked out. He lowered his hands as his ragged breathing eased. "Help me to sit, please. I think I'm going to be sick."

In a flash Jim slipped an arm beneath Artie's and eased him up to a sitting position. Then he grabbed a basin and placed it on the older man's lap. Artie threw up for what felt like hours to him, ejecting his diner and then bile from his stomach.

Jim rubbed calming circles on his sick partner's back.

Once it was over, he put the basin away then went back to sit on the mattress. "How do you feel? Better?" he asked in concern.

Artemus wiped his mouth. "I'm fine, thank you," he said.

Jim smiled with affection. "You're welcome."

Closing his eyes, Artie slowly lowered himself back down. "I'm sorry, Jim. I'm so sorry, I killed you," he whispered. He laid his head on the pillow and was almost instantly asleep, with one arm draped across him and the other hanging off the edge of the bed.

Jim frowned. "You killed me?' Then he knew what Artie had dreamed of: Loveless ordering him to kill him and he did, forced to comply. "Poor Artie." He stayed there for a few minutes, watching his partner sleep, his breathing was steady and slowing and his face relaxed.

That horrible experience would leave traces for a long time, he mused. Artemus would have other nightmares – until it faded with time, like all the other bad things that had happened to them both since they had started working together.

Time soothed everything.

WWW

 _The next morning_

When James West entered the parlor car the next morning he was surprised to see Artie already seated at the table, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. "Hi Artie!" he said. "You're up early and… oh!" He grinned. "And you prepared breakfast!"

The older man nodded, watching amused as his partner lifted, one by one, the golden lids of serving dishes, revealing scrambled eggs, slices of ham, grilled bacon, sautéed potatoes, grits, pancakes, waffles, toast… etc. "I didn't sleep much last night, so I had time to prepare all this. Besides I don't want to eat burnt food anymore, it gives me stomach cramps."

Jim's forehead creased with concern. "Did you have other nightmares?"

Folding the Washington Herald Tribune, Artemus Gordon shook his head, his mouth full of toast. He swallowed and said, "No, I slept like a rock for a couple of hours, then sleep eluded me. I read a book then I went to the galley. Preparing food helps me to relax." He smiled reassuringly. "I'm going to be fine Jim. It's not the first time something… traumatic has happened to me. I recently drowned twice, for example, once in the Mississippi River and once in the Pacific Ocean, and I'm not afraid of water. Each time I get back on the saddle, so don't worry about me Jim. I'm going to be fine. I just need time, okay?"

Jim nodded, feeling better. "Okay. Mmmm… I'm hungry! And everything looks so delicious – is delicious." He took his place around the table and planted his fork into a slice of grilled, greasy bacon and began filling his plate. "Thanks Artie."

Pleased, Artemus poured himself another cup of coffee. "It's a pleasure," he said, smiling. Then he started cutting pieces of a waffle on his plate. "So, until we get some information from other agents, concerning the sale of special equipment and material, that could be eventually destined for Pinket's machine, we have nothing to do but to enjoy all the pleasures of Washington, the theater, the opera, and the lovely ladies of course… What about going to pay a visit to the Riddell sisters tonight? They invited both of us the last time we met them. We could go to a good French restaurant and then go dancing somewhere."

Jim grinned. "Sonia and Miranda Riddell, twins, both blondes. Mmm... That's a good idea Artie."

The telegraph key suddenly started clattering.

Jim dropped his fork onto his plate, headed towards the desk, opened the box of fake books hiding the machine, and signaled he could hear the message.

A new message started right after that, he and Artie heard carefully translating the Morse code at top speed. Jim acknowledged receipt, closed the box and looking at his partner said, "Well, that was quick. We won't have to go far this time. A supplier here in Washington has sold a large amount of _transistors_ to a man in Union Street. And we both know Loveless's fondness for electricity. The delivery man was placed under arrest and his shipping confiscated." He went back to his place and poured a cup of coffee. "We have a mission. Our soirée withy the Riddell sisters will have to wait."

Artemus nodded. "James my boy, I think it's time for me to disguise myself as a delivery man. Just give me half an hour to get ready."

WWW

 _A manor in Union Street, Washington D.C._

Disguised as a blond, mustached, hunched, and potbellied delivery man, with a false nose and wearing rumpled dirty clothes, a stained Derby and heavy boots, Artemus Gordon rang the door-bell.

He looked around him in appreciation: the big two storey house with a large porch, like that of a Greek temple, was located behind a garden 'à la française' and behind the street, hidden behind high walls. It was the ideal place to do secret things, he mused.

The door opened and an impeccable butler appeared, looking Artemus up and down, with visible contempt. He asked, "What do you want?"

Edwin Morgan (Artemus Gordon) smiled, revealing black teeth, and said with a thick Scottish accent, "Hello, my name's Edwin Morgan. I've a special delivery for Mister Smith." He pointed his finger at the buckboard parked in the alley. "Lots of crates. It's bloody heavy!"

The butler nodded. "Go to the deliveries entrance at the back of the house. I'll send a few men to help you unload," he said. Then he closed the door.

His face scrunched up, Artie grumbled, "Not a nice man, this one!"

Five minutes later Edwin Morgan knew Loveless was here and Pinket too. He had recognized one of the men helping him to unload the crates from the buckboard. It was Kayton. Once all the crates were stocked in the cellar, Artie took out two pieces of paper from his pocket and a fountain pen. "Lads, I need a signature and to be paid," he said to the two goons "Where's Mr. Smith?"

Kayton pointed his gun at Artemus. "Come back later, Mr. Smith is busy for the moment, okay?"

Artie placed his hand on the larger crate and drummed his fingers on it three times. That was the pre-arranged signal for Jim, hiding in the crate, to come out. But before that, for Jim's safety, he needed to get rid of Loveless's henchmen. "Okay, but I'll be back tonight. I need a signature and my money." He pivoted, pulled off the cap of his fountain pen, and threw it on the ground. Instantly a large cloud of red smoke appeared, grew and enveloped the burly men in a matter of seconds.

Moving back in a hurry, Artie covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and watch them slide to the ground, sound asleep.

The knock-out gas formula quickly dissipated and James joined his partner. Recognizing Kayton too, Jim said, "I think we are in the right place."

Artemus nodded. "Okay, I'm going first – I still need a signature and my money. My presence is not going to alert them."

"I'll be right behind you, partner," Jim said. "But first we need to hide those henchmen. How long does your knock-out gas formula last?"

Artie waved his hand. "8 or 10 hours give or take."

The younger man nodded. "Good, two down. You'll enter by the front door, and I'll use the back door. Let's catch Loveless!"

Tbc.


	5. Act Four

**THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **ACT FOUR**

Edwin Morgan pushed the butler to one side and crossed the vast hall. Two armed men moved to intercept him at the foot of the staircase.

His faux thick eyebrows knitted, Artemus took a prudent step back, feigning surprise and he raised his hands. "Eh! What's the matter here friends? I just want a signature from Mr. Smith to acknowledge the delivery, and my money. My boss wants to be paid you know? He doesn't work for free." He slowly took the two pieces of paper from the back pocket of his coarse linen pants. "The guys down in the cellar told me to come here to see Mr. Smith. A signature and the money Mr. Smith owes to my boss are all I want. I'm just doing my job you know, and I want to keep it! Could you lower your big guns please, they make me nervous."

Scowling, irritated, The butler reached out. "Give me those papers Mr. Morgan; I will have them signed later. Mr. Smith is busy for now. You will have your payment too, but later. Come back later."

Pretending to be annoyed Artemus shook his head. "Listen mister, I'm a delivery man, I'm a very busy person, and I have a hundred things to do before tonight. I can't wait until _later_. I need those papers signed and the money, now."

One of the goons pulled back the hammer of his Colt. "Come back later – or you won't be able to do any delivering anymore, again. Get it?"

For his own safety, Artie took another step back and suddenly called with his powerful baritone voice, "Mr. Smith, Mr. Smith, I know you're here! I need to see you, now! Mr. Smiiiiith!"

A door opened upstairs and Miguelito Loveless put one hand on the rail, looking downward. "What is happening here? I'm reading. I need calm."

Artemus Gordon looked up and lifted the papers. "Mr. Smith! Finally! I need a signature and the payment. I just delivered your crates to the cellar."

Loveless let out an irritated groan and began going down the stairs. Keeping a poker face, Artie spotted Jim crouching behind the big green house plants standing beside the staircase. He nodded, signaling to Jim that he was ready.

His best friend was holding his gun and was ready to leap on Loveless to intercept him.

But the Doctor suddenly stopped in the middle of the stairs and gave Artie a scrutinizing look. Artemus froze, a lump in his throat.

Could Loveless have seen through his disguise? He asked himself.

He flinched imperceptibly and took an involuntarily step back – sliding his hand discreetly to the Derringer weighting down the inside pocket of his corduroy jacket.

Miguelito Loveless crossed his arms on his chest. "Because I don't trust men I don't know and as I am over-cautious, I've been doing a little snooping around," he said. "And you, my friend, are not one of Osmond's delivery men. I met them all. Gerald! Walton, kill that man!"

Artemus fired before the two goons did. They both fell on the floor, a bullet in the shoulder of each of them. Then he punched the butler in the face, hard, and the other man collapsed limply to the floor.

Loveless ran upstairs, Jim in tow.

Artie dropped the now empty Derringer and grabbed the small gun strapped to his calf. He saw Jim pursuing Loveless, climbing two stairs at a time. He followed him.

Loveless entered a room at the end of the corridor and closed the door behind him. Jim forced it open with a shove of his shoulder.

The two agents entered the room – a lavishly furnished bedroom – and pointed their Colts at their Nemesis who was standing next to the large bed.

Miguelito Loveless was grinning, sure of himself.

Artie looked around him, alarmed by Loveless's calm and his grin, mentally listing all the traps possible: bars sliding around them to form a cage; knock-out gas coming from pipes in the walls; a trapdoor opening under their feet, etc. "Jim, I don't like this," he said.

Jim nodded. "I know Artie." He too was on his guard. "Loveless, you're under arrest, raise your hands and move towards us, slowly."

Miguelito raised his hands. "Ah! Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, it is always such a pleasure to see you both. I was expecting you, but not for a few days. You surprised me. How did you find me?... But it's not important. Hopefully my new device will be ready soon and soon Mr. Gordon will be my first human test subject, that's what is important."

Artemus removed his wig and mustache. "Soon you will be behind bars, Loveless," he said. "Come here, slowly, no tricks or I'll shoot you – in the leg."

Loveless chuckled. "Aren't you a little vindictive Mr. Gordon?"

Narrowing his eyes, Artie gave Loveless a black look and, his voice cold as ice, he said, "I didn't forget what you did to me about a week ago."

The little man chuckled. "I sincerely hope so. Now, let me finish what I was saying, would you? I was saying that I expected you, but not _today_. I would have let some bread crust for you to follow, leading to me, after my machine was ready. And it's not ready, not yet, there are still many adjustments to make before it is operational. But I suppose that I could do them, more rapidly than I had planned to do them, having neutralized you, for several hours."

Eyes riveted on Loveless, Artie cocked the hammer of his Colt. "Let's get out of here. Do something, and I swear that…"

Suddenly Loveless pressed a hidden button on the wooden headrest and the chandelier hanging on the ceiling dropped suddenly, crashing at the agents' feet.

Loveless immediately fished a breathing mask from a drawer of the bedside table and placed it against his nose and mouth.

It was too late, Jim and Artie both , at they noticed the breathing mask covering the lower part of Loveless's face.

Gas! Colorless knockout gas! They thought in concert.

Cursing Loveless under his breath, Artemus was the first to drop to his knees on the carpet, gasping, "Jim! Go aw…" He collapsed sideways. "Gas…" he rasped.

But Jim followed a couple of seconds later.

Miguelito Loveless chuckled behind his breathing mask. Then he headed toward the window and opened it wide, for ventilation. He waited there, until the gas dissipated, watching the two men lying on the floor, sleeping soundly. And they would sleep for 12 hours. He should hurry to make final adjustments to his machine, but he should manage to in 12 hours, As soon as he thought it was safe to, he removed the breathing mask and threw it on top of the bed. "I had planned to bring you here… that's why I had that mask here, on the table, so I wouldn't succumb to the knock out gas…" he said. He moved toward Artemus and, using his foot, he rolled him onto his back. "I have to say that your odorless and colorless knockout gas formula is working remarkably well, Mr. Gordon. A little of it was contained in the glass bulbs of that chandelier. I didn't use all of it while robbing the federal money transport, but kept a little of it, just in case." He moved towards the other man now lying on his side, unconscious. "You're mine."

WWW

 _Much later in Loveless's hideout._

James West regained consciousness with a painful headache, his mouth dry, like cotton. He looked around him, not surprised to see that he was sitting on the floor of a dungeon-like room lit by kerosene lamps. He had shackles around his wrists, again, the chains being embedded in the wall.

There was a machine on the other side of the room, big, covering the whole wall, with flashing colored buttons and levers, and he recognized pieces of equipment indicating it used electricity. Big Wires coming from that machine were running to the floor and merged into a round metallic podium. There was a second one, further over, with the same wires attached to the machine. The two podiums were joined by a large cable.

It was typically a Loveless machine.

He noticed that there was a table in a corner of the room, with a decanter of sherry and a glass, next to a golden, throne-like armchair.

The door opened and Miguelito Loveless approached Jim. He preceded two goons, who were holding Artemus Gordon, firmly.

The older agent was wearing his underwear only and was barely conscious. Artie's shoulders were slumped and his head was lolling on his chest. He could barely walk straight. Jim noticed in worry.

Loveless smiled. "Ah, Mr. West, you're awake, good. Your partner here seems to have more difficulty in regaining consciousness than you." He slapped Artie's face until the older man was fully conscious, then he snapped his fingers. "Settle Mr. Gordon on the podium on the right." The two henchmen complied, meeting no resistance from their prisoner, and then they moved back. "Good!" he rubbed his hand. "That machine, Mr. Gordon and Mr. West, is my chef-d'oeuvre. I based it on Professor Aloysius Pinket's machine, that he calls a 'matter-energy transmitter'.' He sniggered. "It's such a primitive machine that it wouldn't have worked. My machine is a technological feat! And it works! I call it, 'transporter'. I used rabbits, cats, and dogs to test it… "He pointed at Artie, still sitting on the podium, his shoulders hunched, barely conscious. "I placed a rabbit there, where Mr. Gordon is sitting, and activated my transporter and it dematerialized…" He gestured toward the other podium. "… To materialize, on this podium, here. Fantastic, isn't it?"

Focused on Artemus who was still dazed – and that wasn't normal - Jim said, "What did you do to him? Did you drug him again?"

Loveless nodded. "It's a mild sedative. I wanted my first 'human test subject' to be unable to do anything and yet be conscious."

He moved toward the podium and lifted Artie's chin up. "You're going to be the first man ever to be dematerialized and rematerialized, Mr. Gordon. As a fellow man of science, I hope you appreciate the intention… well, maybe later."

Dazed, Artie just blinked slowly at Loveless.

Deeply worried for Artemus, Jim gritted his teeth. "What about taking me instead of Artemus, for a change? And he frowned in curiosity. "By the way, I'd like to know something. Tell me, Doctor, why it is always Artemus who comes first?"

Loveless smiled and responded, "Isn't it obvious?"

Jim shook his head, "No."

The diminutive man chuckled. "You don't get it, do you? Making you suffer _physically_ Mr. West is no fun at all. Because you're like a granite rock, insensitive to any physical pain. But _psychological_ suffering is another matter. You have one Achilles heel: namely Artemus Gordon. You have a brotherly love for him, and you are very protective of him and you probably can't bear watching him suffer, Am I right Mr. West? That's why your partner comes first, always. I want to see you suffer. Nothing gives me as much pleasure as does causing you pain and I'm going to enjoy all your reactions." He undid Artemus's locks and said, "It's going to be a bit painful… two rabbits died, fried, electrocuted."

He chuckled, enjoying Jim's glare.

Jim said, icily, "I won't give you that pleasure, Loveless."

Loveless headed toward his machine and turned around, looking at Jim, smiling. He pressed on a button, activating the machine, and smiled, hearing the low hum and crackles of electricity. "Don't worry; I'm not going to kill your precious companion Mr. West. I have planned something else to eliminate you, later. I need human subjects for my tests. I could unplug the machine when you are 'in transit' within the cables, as energy particles, and you would vanish completely… but it would be too fast and painless…"

Jim glared at Loveless. "You're a sick, deranged man Loveless! You're mad."

Loveless frowned, upset, his eyes dark. He pressed his mouth into a tight line and then he groaned. "I'm not mad! I will not permit myself to be treated like that, Mr. West. I'm a genius, and like any genius I'm different from ordinary mortals – like you. So I don't follow their rules. I don't like to be restrained by unimportant things like what to do or not do, what is right or what is wrong. I follow my own rules and my own desires. I don't care if it offends people because I ignore them, but I don't ignore those around me, of course, like Belladonna, because they recognize my greatness and admire me. That's why they are worthy of serving me. People like you and Mr. Gordon can't understand my grandeur, and take it for madness and consider me as a threat…"

Jim nodded. "Because you are a threat! And Artemus's job and mine is to neutralize that threat, and we shall, believe me. "

Loveless chuckled. "Wishes, just wishes, Mr. West. And as you want to 'neutralize' me, I need to eliminate you, simple. Now let's begin, shall we?" He pulled up a red lever and electricity surged in the wires.

Artemus jerked sharply from the jolt of electricity, his eyes snapping open and gasped in surprise. Surprise disappeared in a flash and then he screamed in pain as the powerful electric current surged through his convulsing body, his eyes rolling back, biting his lower lip hard, so hard that blood rolled down his chin.

He fell limply onto his side, his whole body wracked with spasms.

Grinning, Loveless pulled up another lever, a blue one, and Artemus vanished.

More than stunned, Jim looked down at the large cable between the two metallic podiums. 'Artie's in that cable' he thought, totally mesmerized – and horrified.

Loveless chuckled. "Your partner has been reduced to a set of energetic particles. He's actually traveling in that big black wire… it's fantastic, isn't it?"

Jim blanched. "Is he suffering?"

Loveless shrugged. "I don't know. You'll have to ask your partner… if he materializes, of course. He could be stuck inside… or if the power is accidentally is turned off, simply vanish from existence." He snapped his fingers. "Just like that!" Then he chuckled.

Jim shot the diminutive man his best glare. "What do you want to do with that machine?"

Loveless grinned. "First, see if it works. Then if it works correctly, I will reduce its size so it is transportable, and I will miniaturize the podiums. Then I could use it to send people inside the most inaccessible place, like… like the White House for example. There are galleries under the White House that I could use to place the cables and dig a hole in one of the rooms… and with an accomplice inside, I could install a small podium there. I could send an army of assassins inside, within minutes…"

Suddenly Artemus reappeared on the other podium, his body covered with small electric arcs and sparks. Curling into a tight ball, slight tremors erupting along his limbs, Artie moaned. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. The pain was too intense. He whimpered in distress.

Furious toward the diminutive man Jim's hands curled into painful fists, nails biting into his palms. "It worked! Now let him alone!"

Loveless rubbed his hands in glee. "Yes, it worked! But the transfer was too long. It should take ten seconds, no more." He snapped his fingers and ordered, "Kayton, Clarke, bring Mr. Gordon to the first podium. I need to make a new test." He looked at Jim and added, "I also have to solve this problem of electrocution if I want to send people trough that cable …"

The two goons complied.

Loveless leaned over Artie, and smiled. "Still with us, Mr. Gordon?" he asked the older agent, taking pleasure in seeing him breathing heavily, panting.

Shaking, his breath rasping harshly, Artie shot his Nemesis and 'torturer' his best black look. "Go… to… hell!" he croaked, through clenched teeth.

Loveless tsk-tsked. "Language Mr. Gordon!" He looked at James West who was showing an impassible face. He chuckled. "Still showing your stone face Mr. West? It won't last. You're maybe far less emotional and demonstrative than Mr. Gordon is, but you're human – and humans have emotions. And it's difficult to hide them when someone you love dearly is hurt, is it not?"

Jim gritted his teeth in anger while not showing it. "You won't take pleasure from my reactions to Artie's torture. Because I call that torture! Never. Hang on Artie! Hang on!"

Loveless lowered the lever again, and again powerful electricity ran through Artie's body. "We'll see." Artemus's body began to shake uncontrollably and he screamed, his face twisted in agony. One second after, Artie threw his head backward, his whole body arched … and he dematerialized.

Loveless headed toward a table, poured himself a glass of sherry then took his place in the big golden armchair, sipping his drink, in silence, staring at the second podium.

Waiting.

Eyes riveted on the second podium too, Jim was waiting as well – hoping to see Artie rematerialize, and dreading it too, as he would again become the witness of his best friend's sufferings… and again, he'd feel totally helpless, unable to help him. 'Artie…'

Artemus materialized on the other podium a few seconds later, his body covered again with small electric arcs and sparks, writhing on the podium, his eyes tight shut, tears of abominable pain rolling down his ashen cheeks. His world went white and then black.

Loveless rubbed his chin pensively. "I should increase the power." Glancing at his henchmen he said, "Move Mr. Gordon onto the first podium, again." His finger moved toward a green button.

Jim tried not to, but couldn't help lunging against the chain restraining him, bloodying his wrists with his struggle, as he watched, his face twisted into a mask of pained rage, the two goons drag Artie to the podium. "Stop it! Stop it now! You won Loveless! You won. You won. He said as his voice stuttered and cracked. Please stop it, stop it, please."

Loveless grinned. "Please? The great James West is begging, that's a lot better than I expected." He pulled the lever up.

There was a new surge of electricity. Artie's mouth opened even as no sound came out, his body shaken with spasms. Blood was spilling from his nose, running down his chin and throat.

He dematerialized with a buzz of electricity and rematerialized 30 seconds later his body covered with small electric arcs and sparks, again. But his eyes were wide open, lifeless, his colorless face slack, his body limp, boneless.

Miguelito Loveless reached out and touched the side of Artie's neck, checking his pulse and didn't find any. He took it at his wrist to be sure. "He's dead," he said bluntly, disappointed. "I thought Mr. Gordon would be more resistant, I was wrong. But it's my fault, I almost killed him a week ago, probably weakening his heart in the process, and it couldn't withstand that last electrical shock." He frowned, deeply, irritated and frustrated. "Mr. Gordon is dead. I won't be able to kill him the way I had planned it."

Displeased Loveless turned the current off.

Jim sucked in a breath and moaned, softly, sounding broken.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

Denial, anger, pain, loss, grief, sorrow. All those strong emotions had crystalized in a very short instant, short-circuiting Jim's brain.

Miguelito Loveless noticed James West's hunched shoulders, his gray face, the tears leaking out of the corners of both downcast eyes, swallowing convulsively - with vivid interest – and glee. "I can't believe it; I just broke the great James West. It was so simple. Kill Artemus Gordon." He lifted Artie's head, closing his wide opened eyes, now empty. "He is dead, yes."

Overwhelmed with despair, Jim whimpered, "No."

Belladonna entered the room, moved beside Loveless and looked down at Artemus's body. "Is he dead, Miguelito?"

Looking down at Artemus Gordon's body too, Loveless nodded pensively. "Yes, he is. It's strange. I should be happy he's dead, but I'm not. It's like I had lost someone dear to me. Why?"

The young woman placed a gentle hand on Loveless's shoulder. "That's simple. Because you and Mr. Gordon were old enemies, Miguelito. Because you won't have the pleasure of capturing him again, of planning his death again. He's gone."

Loveless nodded. "You're right, my dear Belladonna."

The blond woman nodded. "Mr. Gordon died, yes, but it is a lesser loss. You still have Mr. West to 'play with' Miguelito. And you told me he's the most challenging of the two. You told me that you preferred to torment West rather than Gordon, the 'hero' rather than the 'sidekick'."

Loveless smiled. "You're right, again, Belladonna and thank you for cheering me up." He looked at his blond henchman and ordered, "Kayton, release Mr. West. He needs to mourn his fallen partner and he can't do it properly if he's chained to the wall. Despite what you may think of me, I'm not a monster, Mr. West." He watched the other man comply then said, "I have to go now. I have a dinner with Professor Pinket to attend." He took Belladonna's hand." We'll see each other again, Mr. West, later. Kayton, you come with me. Clarke, you're going to stay here, even though Mr. West is in no state to be a threat." He left the room with his henchwoman with Kayton following suit, after which the solid door was locked.

His limbs trembling, Jim inhaled sharply. "Artie…" he let out a heart-wrenching whine.

Artie was gone.

WWW

Blinking James West finally left his stupor state. Very pale, shaking, he sank to his knees beside his companion's lifeless body, crying softly.

He took Artie's limp and boneless body in his arms, cradling his dead partner against him. He could barely breathe, the pain was so sharp. He sobbed, huge gut-wrenching sobs.

Then, suddenly a thought occurred to him, piercing the maelstrom of violent emotions that was short circuiting his brain: Artemus was dead but could be brought back. That wonderful news took precedence over grief, sorrow, despair and he progressively calmed down.

He just remembered Artie telling him that a discharge of electricity could kill a man by stopping his heart but could re-start it too. It was a recent medical discovery.

Loveless had forgotten it otherwise he would have tried to bring Artie back, he mused. Loveless was so focused on how electricity could make his machines work, and could eventually be used as an instrument of torture as well,, that he was totally oblivious of its medical usefulness.

He had to get rid of Clarke first. But it wasn't a problem. "Clarke…" He breathed. He whimpered. "Clarke…" He let out a strangled sob. "Clarke…"

Irritated Clarke moved toward Jim. "What do you w…" and Jim hit the henchman with an uppercut to his chin, quick as a flash.

Clarke didn't finish his sentence as he collapsed to the floor, passed out.

Taking Artemus by his wrists Jim dragged him towards the machine. He hoisted him onto the first podium and pressed a button, activating the machine, and smiled on hearing the low hum and a few crackles of electricity. "I'm going to bring you back Artie!" He lowered the red lever and electricity coursed through his partner's limp body. Artie's body immediately arched under the powerful electric shock, and slumped back into its previous position, limp and boneless.

He pulled down the lever and took his partner's pulse.

Nothing.

He gritted his teeth. "Come on!"

He repeated the action again and again. He must restart Artemus's heart!

Still no reaction.

Then the fourth time, Jim augmented the intensity of the electric current and shocked Artie again, with a dazzling display of sparks, willing with all his might, the older man beneath him to move, to stir, to breathe again, to live again. "I'm sorry," he said. "Come on! Come back to me!"

He pulled down the lever and took his partner's pulse.

Suddenly the older man's body jerked again and then relaxed. Encouraged, Jim patted Artemus's cheek. "Come on! You've got to wake up now! Come on!"

Suddenly, Artemus's chest swelled with his first exhalation, harsh and ragged, and then he started breathing again.

Jim took Artemus's pulse again. It was sluggish, but the pulse was there. "I did it! I did it!" he exclaimed, blinking to clear his vision, blurred with tears, as a dizzying sense of immense relief and intense joy swept over him. It was the best day of his life. "Artie! Artie!" he called. "Wake up buddy." He took the other man's pulse a last time and found it stronger. "Artie! Artie!'

Shortly after, Artemus's eyes fluttered. "J'm." He was gasping, hyperventilating. Then, he groaned and grimaced. A sudden wave of dizziness hit him. "S'ck…"

Instantly rolling Artie over onto his side, Jim, concerned, watched Artemus throwing up, as his whole body was trembling. Then, when it was over, he pulled Artie away from the puddle of vomit and cupped his face, noticing that his best friend's forehead was shiny with a thin layer of sweat, that his eyes were red and glassy with tears, and his cheeks were flushed. "It's going to be alright Artie."

The older man blinked, his muscles spasming, trying to focus his blurred gaze. "Jim…" he said, as his best friend's gray-veiled face was hovering over him. He grimaced and clutched his stomach as he forced down welling bile. He swallowed, hard, his breath shaky. He winced then. His whole body was aching, was burning, was still shaking through the aftershocks, he breathed, "Jim… wha… hap'd?"

He blinked slowly. He was confused and disoriented.

Feeling something hot leave his aching nose in a slow trickle, he fingered it and saw blood on his fingertips. "'m hurt…"

Then sharp pain hit and he grunted and curled in on himself, as his whole body was burning, invaded by millions of very, very, painful pins and needles.

His stiff limbs were still tingling and vibrating with the now gone current. He started trembling and whimpered in distress, panting.

Jim took his partner's hand in his. "It's okay Artie, you're going to be fine," he said soothingly. "I'll explain later okay?"

Grasping Jim's hand, Artemus ran the other one over his face. His throat was sore, raw and hoarse from all the screaming. "Oh god! I was dead." He swallowed hard. It was hard to catch his breath and he was trying his hardest not to pass out "I was dead, Jim."

Very pale, Jim nodded. "I know, I brought you back, Artie."

Trying to get his breathing under control and regaining composure Artie said, "It happened again, Jim. It was like at my mom's home. I felt myself leave my body, I was floating above everyone, I could see everything, hear everything with a sense of peace and well-being, … I could see you shock me, trying to revive me… Then I was floating in that black emptiness… but I wasn't afraid, I felt fine, I felt happy, I felt relaxed, Jim… but I wanted to come back, to be with you, to continue my life here. Then I was back in my body."

Smiling, Jim reached out and put his hands on his partner's shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position, slowly, gently. "Yes, and very happy to be back."

His features relaxing, Artie nodded and he smiling broadly. "Yes I am." He placed a hand on his heart feeling it beat at top speed in his chest and sighed with relief. "Thanks Jim."

Grinning Jim said, "It's always a pleasure to bring you back from the dead, Artie, each time. Can you get up buddy?"

The older man nodded. "I think, yes." With Jim helping him, Artie managed to stand. He groaned, feeling everything hurt – even his hair. He touched his head, and was surprised to discover that his locks had turned into spikes. He tried to flatten them to his skull, but they resisted. He dropped his hands, far too exhausted to keep them up. "I feel like a troop of cavalry ran over me. Oh boy! I need another medical leave, the longest possible." Then he remembered everything that had happened in a flash and shuddered at the memory of electricity going through his body and the huge pain following. Bile rising in his throat, he swallowed and buried his face in his trembling hands. "Dear God…That was awful, that was intense white-hot pain, that was pure agony. I was being fried!" He lowered his hands and glanced at Loveless's infernal machine, his eyes turning black with rage. "Let's destroy that horrible thing!"

Jim shook his head. "We don't have time for that. We need to get out of here as soon as possible, while we.."

Artie grasped Jim's arm." If you want to take me to the hospital, it's a no. I'm okay – for now. I just want one thing; to put Loveless in a cell, myself. So we carry on the mission." Then, staggering, his legs shaking badly, he followed Jim as he headed toward the door.

But it was locked!

Jim nodded. "I have a plan. But first, I have to hide Clarke under those crates over there. We're going to catch Loveless, buddy and put him in prison." He smiled. "And I'm going to show you that I can be a good actor. You rubbed off on me, Artie."

WWW

 _Later_

Miguelito Loveless crossed the threshold of the cell followed by Kayton.

He stopped and smiled, pleased, seeing James West sitting on the floor at the far end of the room, his back resting against the wall, his shoulders slumped and head down.

His face discomposed, the special agent was holding his dead, limp partner close against him, cradling him in his arms. He babbled incoherently.

Loveless's smile broadened. He really had broken the great James West, he mused, rubbing his hands with glee. It was really simple: kill Artemus Gordon, James West's other half of his soul. 'I should have thought of it before', he thought.

He noticed that Clarke wasn't in the room and frowned, irritated. "I told him to stay here. He probably left to satisfy an urgent bodily need… But Mr. West is not a threat anymore. In his current state, he couldn't hurt a fly." He headed toward his prisoners, one still alive, the other dead. The goon followed his boss like he was his shadow, his hand on the butt of his Colt.

His face wet with tears, Jim raised lifeless eyes toward the diminutive man. "Artie's dead. He's dead. You killed him." And he whimpered pathetically.

Loveless nodded. "My intention wasn't to kill Mr. Gordon that way, but he's dead now. 'C _'est la vie_ '. He's dead and you're still alive. I'm going to need you, Mr. West. I need another subject to test my transporter. And, as you are younger and stronger than your now dead partner, you will survive. Then, I will kill you the way I planned. Stand up!"

Jim shook his head, holding Artemus more tightly against him. "No, I can't leave Artie. He can't stay alone, he needs me and I need him, we're a pair, we are always together."

Loveless chuckled. Jim had lost it. Too much pain. He gestured to his henchman. "Kayton, remove Mr. Gordon's body from Mr. West."

Kayton grabbed Artemus's limp arm and pulled the other man toward him. West groaned and tightened his embrace around his partner. "No! Noooooooo! He stays with me!"

Kayton kicked Jim in the ribs, hard and Jim finally released Artie.

The brute dragged Artemus away from the younger agent and dropped him without respect onto the floor. Then he turned around and took his place back behind Loveless, ready to unholster his gun.

Loveless knelt beside West, now curled up in a trembling ball, his eyes haggard. "Be a good boy and follow me, Mr. West."

Jim looked at Miguelito, his eyes suddenly lit with determination and victory. "Surprise!" he said and tackled Loveless to the carpet. "You're under arrest, for a long list of crimes, Loveless."

Kayton didn't have time to react. Artie knocked him unconscious with one blow behind the ear. Then, in a flash, he moved to Loveless Jim was pinning to the floor. "I'm going to have the great pleasure of putting you behind bars myself," he said, his eyes black, staring down at the little man with a look of barely-contained rage, his face flushed.

Loveless was sputtering. "That's impossible! You were dead!"

Artemus grinned. "The news of my death has been greatly exaggerated."

Jim smiled. "It's not Artie's first death. He's like a cat, you see, he has several lives." He pulled Loveless upright then took Clarke's Colt. "Now, we're going to leave this place using the secret passage – there is always a secret passage in your hideouts, Loveless." He furrowed his brow, face darkening. "Now move, and no tricks this time, or you're dead. I mean it."

Artie nodded. "I'll shoot you myself."

Tbc.


	6. Tag

**THE NIGHT OF THE DEADLY MACHINE**

 **By Andamogirl**

WWW

 **TAG**

 _Later in the White House_

President Grant shook Artemus's hand, then Jim's.

He was more than happy.

He smiled broadly and said, "Congratulations, gentlemen. Dr. Loveless is behind bars, his accomplice Belladonna too, his men had been arrested, Professor Pinket is back in his home and that 'transporter' machine is now secured in one of the US Army's secret depots and a large part of the stolen gold was found." He took a piece of paper lying on his desk and said, "It's a special commendation for you, Mr. West, Mr. Gordon, from the President of the United States in person. You both deserve it."

The two agents smiled at each other, both very happy and proud of what they had done, and they both said in a perfect chorus, "Thank you Mr. President."

Ulysses S. Grant chuckled. "You're quite a pair, gentlemen." He suddenly frowned with concern as he noticed that Artemus looked like he was going to collapse at any time. "Artemus, are you alright?"

Concerned too, Jim caught his partner's elbow before he fell to the floor and helped him to reach the nearest chair. "Take it easy Artie, you're going to be fine."

Pale and sweating, Artemus nodded. "It's nothing, Sir, it's just a little _malaise_ …" He looked up at Grant who looked very worried. "I'm alright. It's just fatigue."

Grant's brow creased in deep concern. "Fatigue Artemus? It's more than that. You're looking like the closest thing to a walking corpse…" He stopped very embarrassed. "Oh I'm sorry. I didn't want to remind you… I sincerely apologize, Artemus."

Smiling weakly, Artie waved a hand, his eyes watering and a bit dazed. "It's alright, Sir. I'm okay with that. It's not the first time I died, and something tells me it won't be the last." He tried to keep his eyes open. He was so very tired. "Jim, buddy, could we go back to the Wanderer? I think I need a little nap."

President Grant shook his head. "You, sir, are going to the Military hospital. " Seeing that Gordon was shaking his head weakly, he added, "That's an order, Major. Don't make me repeat it."

Standing at attention Artemus Gordon saluted and slurred. "Yes General-I-mean-President-Sir." Then he closed his eyes and promptly passed out.

WWW

 _Two weeks later, in the Wanderer_

Smiling, Jim watched Artie lay his head on the table, pillowing it on his bent arm, between a cup of coffee and a plate of French pastries.

He didn't have the energy to keep his body up straight any longer.

Pouring himself a new cup of coffee, Jim said, "You should be in your bed you know, or even on the couch. Sleeping like that will give you a crick in your neck."

Artemus groaned. "I spent two weeks in a sedative induced coma after Loveless was taken into custody, so I had time to recover, - President Grant's orders. The nurses woke me only to give me food, something to drink, and a male nurse helped me to go to the bathroom and to clean myself. I spent roughly two weeks sleeping Jim. That's a long sleep. I don't want to see a bed again for a long time." He yawned. "I have millions of things to do, like taking care of my cat, of my new horse, noting all the ideas of inventions that I had at the hospital…"He took a pastry with whipped cream and wolfed it down. "Mmm… that's delicious. I love that recipe of _choux fourrés à la crème Chantilly_. Perhaps I should try to put French cream inside, instead of the whipped cream, and add a frosting on them, a chocolate one..." He engulfed a new _chou_ and added, "I hate hospital food with a fiery passion. I lost weight there."

Scoffing, James chuckled and said, "Don't worry about that, at the rate you're eating food, you should gain back the pounds you lost Artie."

Artemus closed his eyes. "Hmm, hmm." He yawned again. "Why am I so damn tired? I slept for two weeks, or almost. I should be in tip top form."

Jim smiled mischievously and said, "Perhaps it has something to do with the sleeping powder I put in your coffee buddy."

Artie raised his head, first surprised, then upset, then feeling betrayed. "What? Why did you do that?" He pushed his cup of coffee aside.

Jim chuckled. "President Grant's orders pal. He ordered me to mother-hen you till the end of the month – with as much sleep as possible included, he specified."

Artie groaned. "More sleep, just what I need." Then he crossed his arms on the table resting his head on them and was asleep in a wink of an eye.

James took a pastry from the plate and smiled. "Sleep well Artie."

The end


End file.
